


Behind the Beskar

by Caladhwen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Finance, Reader-Insert, Romance, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29949615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladhwen/pseuds/Caladhwen
Summary: Every accountant and financial controller working under the Empire had been found guilty of financial fraud and theft by the Rebels right after the Battle of Endor, so you had hastily embarked on a ship to leave the Core Worlds and never return.A classic Reader meets Mando - but with a twist.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Reader, Din Djarin & You, Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Behind the Beskar

**_Behind the Beskar_ **

You’d just joined the Guild and this was your first job.

You were living on borrowed money in a seedy little flat in the one of the worst neighbourhood of Nevarro. You _had_ to pay the rent (not cheap), the electricity (cheaper), the running water (hot water was included, thank hot lava planet), the speeder repairs, the monthly salary to your elderly parents’ maid who helped them through old age, a system away from you.

You used to lend your accountancy skills to Governors from outer regions, help them manage their bases and finances. Now, with the Empire fallen, you struggled to make ends meet. The Rebel alliance had centralized every financial operation, scattered the old consolidation team and you were made redundant at the young age of twenty-seven.

Every accountant and financial controller working under the Empire had been found guilty of financial fraud and theft by the Rebels right after the Battle of Endor, so you had hastily embarked on a ship to leave the Core Worlds and never return.

In Nevarro, nobody cared about where you came from, or what you did for a living, as long as you had credits, and the wits to keep them with you at all times when on trips to the cantina. You were able to sustain the lifestyle for a month, but one day you woke up feeling so cold that you thought your toes would fall off your feet, stomach rumbling loudly, and you decided that enough was enough.

You went straight back to the cantina, barely paying attention to your surroundings. You were intent on paying off this debt. Everything went smoothly enough, considering that it was obvious that the man from the Guild expected you to die on your first mission, and you could only agree with him, but _fuck_ , this was a ride-or-die situation. _Nobody_ wanted to hire a former Empire accountant. Things would have been different, were you a trooper or a starfighter pilot, because people always needed those skills. But you had spent the last five years forgetting both honesty and the Full Disclosure principle, so that did not go well in your CV. _Fuck_ the Empire and their margin-reducing Death Stars.

You chose the best-paying job, not out of talent, but out of necessity. You returned home, burying yourself under the woollen covers, puck in one hand and the city’s last year financial records printed out on yellowed paper in the other. You stifled a yawn, looking lazily at the pages.

Something was wrong here with the numbers, and you bet it had everything to do with your new bounty.

The Guild guy had explained that somebody stole something from somewhere in the city, which was _not_ great intel, but this somebody had a contact inside the townhall, which _was_ intel. As soon as the theft had been discovered, the contact had disappeared from the surface of the planet, but rumour had it that he was just low-profile for the moment. He was said to carry three blasters with him at all time and use two akimbo.

Sure, you didn’t have the weapons or the military background other people in the Guild had; but you had your wits and an eye for spotting anomalies in figures. Years of camouflaging fraud had taught you how to spot one very quickly – and yes! Here it was, the gap between income and cash flow. Somebody here was getting some hidden cash from the city’s council as there was _no way_ they could still buy Empire stock with simple credit coins or chips _after the fall of the Empire_.

Financial records were a mine of information if you knew what to look for. You compared the statements – _yes_ , a new building had also been bought at the beginning of the standard year, roughly at the same time as the strange disappearance of Mr. Bounty. And you happened to know where this building was. You lived in it. No wonder the rent was so high!

You emerged from the covers satisfied with your studies. But you had yet to devise a plan to eject the tenant under your feet while not crashing your own little flat. Maybe you could try from the sewers under? You could pretend to take out the bin tonight and –

_Crack!_

The bedroom door flew out of its hinges in a cloud of black smoke. Coughing loudly, eyes closed, you plunged to the floor, cursing your bad luck. How could your neighbour possibly know that you’d chosen _his_ puck? You crawled under the bed while the smoke dissipated, hugging the puck and the soundproof bag containing the fob. The fob! – it was pulsing red, but no more than before. _How odd,_ you thought, _that someone would give me a faulty fob that doesn’t work even though the bounty’s boots are three inches from my face._

Heavy brown boots did in fact stood just before your eyes. You pressed a hand to your mouth, feeling sweat running down your back.

The boots shuffled on the dusty floor. You held your breath. Suddenly the bed above you disappeared, then came crashing down on the window. The room became dark, the mattress hiding the morning sunlight.

You lifted your face, head buzzing with panic. And then you saw him. You couldn’t miss him, really. The tall Mandalorian in a battered armour and shiny helmet. He towered over you, and despite you lying on the floor and having a very distorted perspective, you could tell that he was _huge_.

Fob glowing an angry red in one hand, and a blaster pointed at you in the other, he was a dangerous man. Before your eyes, around his calves, were enormous bullets that could only fit the rifle strapped in his back. You could tell he was a true fighter by the state of his chest plate: old, the paint wearing off, bullet cavities marring the surface. Something was not right, you decided, observing his strong shoulders. You read in his stance that he was an adept at hand combat. Hand, mid-range blaster and heavy sniper rifle. He looked down at you. One gloved hand was stained with blaster residue. The other glove was clean – or at least as clean as orange could be on a rocky planet.

“I can bring you in warm –“

“Wait!” you cried out. “You are not the bounty I’m looking for.”

This man obviously used only one blaster, not two. You could almost see the cogs turn in his brain when you saw his T-shaped visor gazing at the general direction of your own fob.

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” you replied, your voice shaking a little. Admittedly, you hadn’t done a lot of bounty hunting yet but it _did_ sound better than accountant.

He didn’t answer but you heard a small huff of static.

“I believe the bounty is the tenant living one floor under me,” you said hesitantly.

Immediately, he turned on his heels and ran out the room, leaving you aghast. You heard his surprisingly soft footsteps going down the stairs and the sound of a door being blasted off.

You sat down, heart pounding in your chest. Wow. Chances were that you’d never be able to live here again. Better flee now than miss the chance of escaping the kriffin building. You grabbed your ID, clean underwear, a big brown cloak, a bottle of water and the implant. You put on the combat boots one deputy statutory auditor had gifted to you before being murdered by the one and only Lord Vader, and set off to the stairs.

You put your foot on the first step timidly. _Bang_. The unmistakeable sound of blaster fire. Smoke rose in the air as it became acrid and hard to breathe.

That’s when you panicked. You turned around and ran towards the window, pushing aside the lumpy mattress and curling your fingers into a punch. Then you hit the glass as hard as you could. It came down crashing down, shards falling everywhere. You held your breath. You jumped.

You landed. You landed bad, and it hurt. Oh, kriff. You’d fortunately landed on your feet but lost your balance and your right ankle ached a little. It would probably swell up in the next couple of minutes but for the moment you needed to get out of here pretty fast.

Your stuff had fallen off your bag when you’d landed in the dirt-filled back alley. You quickly gathered your clothes, put the dust bag over your shoulder and half walked, half ran to the freeport, wincing at every step you took.

The buildings were blurry, and you could only see the shadows of the people you passed by. Was it a concussion? You ran a hand through your hair, half expecting to see blood, but you only gathered dust on your fingers. The pain in your ankle had risen during your walk, and by the time you were on the main road you were limping pitifully.

You reached the cantina for the second time in one day. This was both the point of no-return and the place where everything had begun. There were tears in your eyes, tears for this city that you’d have to leave so suddenly after grinding so hard. You were never happy here, you never made it and you struggled till the very end. On your left you saw the stand where an old man sold coarse fabrics; you’d purchased a few to repair your own clothes in the direst times. You recognized the woman brushing her hair through the top window of that one dirty, dusty building: she’d helped you find a place to sleep on your first day here.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. Shivering, you turned around. The Mandalorian was standing just behind you. You looked at him through your tears, understanding the hurry in his stance. He didn’t say anything, but you grabbed your bag and followed his long strides in the darker alleys to the space port.

Your ankle hurt but you kept running. You kept your head low, not wanting to be recognized by another Guild member. This was your first bounty, and you’d already colluded with a fellow hunter. You weren’t so sure if this was legal or not, and you were not eager to find out.

In any case, the closer to the space port you were, the better it was for your skin. You needed to lie low for a while; people here noticed blaster shots easily and you didn’t want your name to be linked with a bounty.

Your throat was burning from volcanic dust and pain flared in your ankle at every step, but you carried on. Everything was still blurry but you could see the Mandalorian keeping a steady pace a few steps before you. He never turned away to make sure you were still following, but you guessed he could hear your laboured breathing from where he was.

Now the next steps were: finding a ship that left soon, not do anything for a moment, then… Now was not the time to think about a potential “then”.

His ship was a military cargo ship, made to carry soldiers in remote outposts during the war. It was battered from battle and dusty from whatever planet it had been to before. You hesitated for a second.

“Is this where we part ways?” you asked, your voice wavering.

“Do you need transport out of here?” The Mandalorian asked gruffly.

When it became clear to him that you did, he ushered you inside and rushed to close the ramp.

You stopped to look around. That was when you realized that the Mandalorian was carrying a big black body bag on his shoulder, and he was heaving a little from the weight.

He threw the body on the ground then retrieved a pair of handcuffs from somewhere inside the metal wall. Intrigued, you looked closer. There was a strange system of metal chains suspended from the top of the wall that ended in two hooks. You understood their purpose when Mando attached the hooks to the handcuffs and pulled a lever, raising the body to eye level.

The bounty was a middle-aged human man, black haired, smartly dressed for Nevarro. His head was hanging, lip split open, and a nasty bruise was spreading on his right eyelid.

“Dead?” You murmured, a little frightened.

“No,” the Mandalorian answered. “Get back.”

You scrambled back to the end of the ship, clutching your tightly. Sharp lighting reflecting on the beskar helmet, the Mandalorian looked very in the small hull of this ship.

His movements precise, he clicked a few buttons on the control panel and suddenly the body was frozen in carbonite.

You let out the breath you just realized you had been holding. You shivered a little.

“Better get used to it,” the Mandalorian said, making his way to the cockpit.

You followed him quietly, strapping yourself in the passenger seat when he told you to. You closed your eyes as you felt the engines roar and the ship soar into the grey sky, the heavy clouds, then the blackness of the galaxy. You were afraid, but there was also a strange feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. The Nevarro days were behind you.

* * *

You woke up, feeling blindly around you. Judging by the absence of light in the ship, it was still the middle of the night on Scarif. Also judging by the soreness of your muscles, you’d only managed to sleep for a couple of hours before the clamp soup you’d swallowed with abandon the evening before had reached your bladder.

Leaving the (relative) comfort of your covers, you got up, reaching towards the nearest wall to support yourself. Tiptoeing around, you tried to make as little sound as possible. You stifled a yawn, almost lost your balance, and cursed loudly. So much for quietness.

After half a dozen more yawns, another string of curses and a bruised toe (you’d unfortunately collided with what felt like an enormous durasteel wall plate) you found your way to the ‘fresher. You relieved yourself and washed your hands – they looked so thin; you really could use some more food – then stepped out of the unit _._

That was when you heard it.

A _very_ male groan followed by heaving breathing that did nothing to cover the distinctive sound of flesh on flesh.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

You’d forgotten to shut off the ‘fresher light. It was a flickering old light that made your face look like it had been out of the sun for two decades, but it was enough to show you that the enormous durasteel wall plate you’d stumbled into was in fact a thigh guard. And said thigh guard was still attached to its wearer but was not protecting _anything_ except Mando’s ankles.

He was holding himself in one hand, helmet still on. You stuttered:

“Wow. Errm, I mean – I’m sorry.”

Not waiting for an answer, you took a step backward, closed your eyes and made a hasty retreat.

You lay in the cot, waiting to fall back asleep. You’d felt so tired just seconds before and now sleep was eluding you. The image was seared in your brain.

It had been long since you’d had a good fuck. You’d been building up so much financial stress that you hadn’t even found your release by yourself in months. You guessed it was all backfiring now. Remembering the sinful sounds Mando had made, you felt a heat coiling deep inside you.

You risked a hand between your legs. Okay, you had a problem there. You were _wet_. Not just damp. You were soaking through your underwear. You brought your fingers to you nose; they had the definite smell of sex.

Would you be able to finally pleasure yourself on a stranger’s ship far away from Nevarro?

You wanted it so badly. You were burning up, pressing your thighs together to relieve the pressure. But the thing was, the owner of this spaceship had lent you his cot. People did not get off in other people’s bed, that was your implicit rule of hospitality. Especially not when you knew you’d make a mess with how wet you were.

Just a touch, you decided. A quick rub of your lady parts would not do wrong, right? You leaned backwards until your back was pressed against the metal wall and you slid a hand under your sleep pants, circling the tender area with the tip of your fingers.

You still saw Mando under your closed eyes. You tried to focus on your past adventures but Mando’s helmet kept coming back until it was him you imagined riding on your small bed back in Nevarro, making the erotic sounds you’d heard tonight. You let out an unvoluntary moan. You couldn’t stop now, you felt your whole body tingling and burning, you began to see stars, white stars, everything was brighter –

Your eyes flew open at the brightly lit torch brandished towards your face from the end of the cot. _Fuck fuck fuck._ In your haste to flee, you’d forgotten to close down the hatch and now Mando himself was standing still, looking directly at you, the torch in his left hand.

He was not moving but you swore he looked amused. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die, and at the same time you felt incredibly wanton and powerful with your legs spread apart and the glow you knew was on your face.

“I heard my name,” Mando whispered.

His voice was hoarse and heavy, and you felt your insides clench at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. The air between you was thick.

“Don’t be,” he replied. Then he looked at you, looking like he was debating something internally. “May I?”

The pronounced static of his breathing, the expectant posture – you felt your head buzzing at the implication. It meant one thing.

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy, but you didn’t care.

The two of you were too big for the bunk, especially since Mando still had his full armour on, but you didn’t mind the way his body pressed against yours in all pleasant ways.

“Let me,” he groaned, once he was fully inside the bunk, …

You stilled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. Slowly, so slowly, he placed his right hand in your inner thigh, fingers hovering over the soft skin. Every place he touched you, you burned.

You reached to grasp the helmet but he caught your hand, staring hard into your eyes. You resolved to closing your eyes and slide your hand under the fabric of his shirt, smiling when you caressed the warmth underneath.

So there were taut muscles and soft skin behind the shiny beskar.

You’d lost your way in the numbers and figures, it seemed, in the cold facts of mathematics and the harsh reality of financial fraud. All those years alone had not been easy and you’d forgotten what it was like to be held by a soulful touch. You could almost cry. The night was tender and warm and you felt like melting into Mando while he melted into you, two lives meeting in the corner of the universe, on a planet graced by tragedies and hope alike.

There was no undressing for him. He’d made it clear that the helmet would stay on, and neither of you bothered to remove the rest of his clothes. He sighed deeply when you bit the fingers of his gloves and removed them with your teeth, revealing two hands that looked and felt sun-kissed.

You lazily removed your sleep clothes, keeping your eyes fixed on the helmet, and it felt like your gaze was locked with his even though you couldn’t see behind the black visor. You threw your underwear in a bundle, the fire in your body urging you to feel him ever closer. The plates of metal poked into your skin, cold and unforgiving but you couldn’t care less. If this was the price to pay to keep him close, then you’d willingly pay it.

The rush of the cocktail of hormones felt like drugs in your foggy brain. You were in the middle of draping your left leg over his waist when all movement slowed and stopped. Time was suspended; only the heavy static behind the beskar helmet and your own wrecked breath cut the silence and the electricity buzz of the landed spaceship.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you. You knew you wanted to press your mouth against his and taste his lips. But you knew it couldn’t happen. He knew it too. There was a shimmer of hope, then it died down as your leg finished its graceful arch in the air and you settled yourself over him, hot and heavy under your hips.

You felt the desire in your veins, and there was raw longing in the way he murmured your name over and over again while he buried himself inside you.

Maybe the last few years had been harsh and loveless for you, but it seemed that Mando had decided to make it all up on his own. Why you would at last find true passion in the hands of a seasoned bounty hunter, you didn’t know. You couldn’t contain your wanton moaning, lost in the haze of the moment. If he was as fierce in battle as he was in his love - and it looked like he was -, then you would not be able to fight back if he demanded your heart. You would gladly surrender right there, right now…

You felt the sweat gathering on your face. There was urgency in your movements, and you felt your own muscles tightening deliciously.

 _Cyar’ika, cyar’ika,_ _cyar’ika…_

Mando whispered the words into your shoulders as you felt his body tense under yours.

You couldn’t understand them, yet you couldn’t miss the depth of their meaning. You pressed a thousand kisses on his helmet, cradling him in your arms, rocking quicker as you readied yourself for him to shatter and explode into your embrace. _Cyar’ika, cyar’ika…_

* * *

You couldn’t understand these words, but I could.

You and I were chatting amiably in the cantina of some random planet he happened to have a bounty on. I could tell that the flush on your face was caused by both the cocktail swirling in your glass and the feelings you so obviously had towards the beskar-clad warrior.

Maybe it was the need for female company. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system. Maybe you thought you found a friend in me. But you poured your heart out to me, maybe hoping I would somehow understand your feelings and encourage you to act on them.

I didn’t tell you that I last travelled with the Mandalorian of your story a little more than six months ago. I couldn’t bring myself to it.

You didn’t understand the pet names he gave you, but I did, because he’d called me this way too.

I’d done everything you did.

I’d met the Mandalorian a different way, him looking for a doctor for a festered wound that did not heal. His desperate sighs when I applied bacta patches beneath the armour had compelled me to stay on his ship.

I’d laughed and cried and moaned on the Crest just like you. I’d been under crossfire more than once, I’d tended to his wounds, I’d made the calculations to jump to hyperspace while he was asleep, tired from a day of bounty-hunting and a night of love-making.

We’d spent hours discovering each other’s bodies while the Crest floated somewhere between the stars. I’d seen the heavens, shuddering beneath him, breathy sighs saturating the air. I’d waited for him to come back every day, touching myself on the pilot’s seat and wishing for the comfort of his strong arms.

But life on the Razor Crest was too lonely for me. After a while, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I needed company, friends to share a meal with. I missed evenings with my family, cooking together our trademark roast chicken recipe inherited from my maternal grandmother. I missed the silly games we played with my little cousins; our faces distorted in grimaces as we imitated HoloNet celebrities. I also missed my friends’ laughs, my first crush’s hazel eyes, my best friend’s freckled face. My home planet was only a short hyperspace drive from here, yet it felt like I was worlds and worlds away.

Behind the shiny beskar and the hard muscles, I could only see a lifetime of worry and loneliness. How in the galaxy could I ever belong there, in that tin can in the middle of nothingness? I needed the warmth of the sun, the smell of the earth and the promise of a happy life.

So I’d left before I could fall in love and get hurt. I gave him back the pendant you now wore between your breasts. I’d tried to ignore the way his shoulders hunched as I packed my bag. I left without looking back, my chin held high, half hoping he’d notice the tears on my face and beg me to come back.

You looked happy; he deserved you. You picked up your watch and I read the surprise on your face. “ _Already? I have to go, he’s picking me up here and we leave in a half-hour._ ” You packed your bags hurriedly, the flush lingering on your cheeks and I smiled at your apologies for leaving so soon. You thanked me profusely for my quiet companionship.

Then I heard it clearly. The velvety voice from my memories, the deep “ _Let’s go_ ”, the clanking of the armour. It seemed that my body had not forgotten either and I felt myself uncomfortably pressing my thighs together. The memories started to flood my mind because I remembered _everything_ and now I realized _how_ _much_ I missed –

How _happy_ I –

How _passionate_ he –

But this was a path I’d chosen not to take.

**Author's Note:**

> my take on a reader-insert AND self-insert.  
> this is a: "what if Mando has exes?"  
> cross-posted on tumblr (sterys)


End file.
